by Claire Allan
we can.’
Tidying it up the best they could involved hauling me to
the nearest old lady, style-and-set hairdressers. They begged a
really rather fed up-looking hairdresser to do her best to fix it.
She was clearly about to head home for the day, so they offered
her a generous tip.
She did the best she could but fashioned what could only
be described as a crew cut out of it all. The result certainly
provoked a reaction, but not one I might have hoped for.
‘Look at you! Just look at you, cutting all your hair off like
that. Oh, Heidi, when it broke your poor mammy’s heart to
lose her to hair to the cancer and you’re after hacking your
own hair off,’ Granny had wept and I had felt worse than I
thought was possible.
Perhaps unexpectedly, Ciara had a cruel reaction. ‘Did you
have nits or something? Because I’ll have to get Daddy to boil
wash every towel and sheet in that horrible hovel of yours
before I come and visit again,’ she sneered.
When I had curled up on my bed and sobbed, no longer
buoyed by the thought my actions might actually make my life
a little easier, Kathleen had come and sat beside me, tenderly
resting her hand on my shoulder.
‘You know we all just need to be brave now, Heidi, don’t
you? And we all have to work together to get through this. I
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know it’s very, very sore on you. And it’s not one bit fair, but try to remember there are other people hurting, too. Yes, you
lost your mammy and that’s awful, sweetheart. But Joe lost his
partner. He loved your mother very much and he’d hoped to
spend the rest of his life with her. He’s hurting too and he
doesn’t always get it right. But he does try. If we all try, it will come good. I promise.’
That was the first time I almost told her. The words were
on the tip of my tongue. She was being kind. She was listening,
at least. She was saying it was hard for us all. But she didn’t
know the truth. She didn’t know that after my mother had
died Joe had started to do those things to me. Maybe if I told
her, she’d talk to him just like she was talking to me. She would
tell him to stop. Tell him that he had to try harder, too.
I wanted so much to tell her, but I was eight. I couldn’t find
the words. I couldn’t say why it felt wrong, or how I knew it
wasn’t natural, or how I just wanted it all to stop. So I curled
up in a tighter ball and shrugged her hand away. I didn’t speak.
Didn’t interact. And after a while she stood up and without
saying a word, left.
I think she had already made up her mind about me.
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Chapter Thirty-One
Heidi
Now
‘I heard about your doll; I’m very sorry. You must be very
upset about it,’ Ciara says. ‘I know how much she meant to
you.’
I feel my cheeks burn. The room is silent. Kathleen is staring
down at the table. She looks as if she has aged ten years over-
night. I’ve come downstairs with Lily to find them all, apart
from Stella, sat around the table drinking tea. Alex can’t quite
meet my eye and I know without having to ask that they have
been talking about me. I notice Kathleen looking at the dressing
on my hand. God only knows what they have been saying but
I feel my paranoia grow.
Ciara sounds genuine in her sympathy, but she has always
been one to manipulate a room.
‘It’s okay,’ I lie. ‘I’m over it. It’s only a doll, right?’
‘Oh, but she was your special doll, from your mum.’
Her tone is so subtle that not everyone would pick up that
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she is goading me. I try to ignore her. I don’t have the patience for her games right now.
‘Has there been any news?’ I ask, eager to change the subject.
Kathleen answers, ‘Not yet. Marie phoned earlier, said she
was trying to get some information from that DC King woman.
I just don’t like it one bit. This is cruel. To take him away from us like this. It’s cruel and unnecessary. You think they could at
least keep us informed. I’ve had people calling, texting, asking
what’s happening and what am I supposed to tell them? That
he has unexpected marks on his body?’ She bursts into tears,
her shoulders shuddering. ‘It’s mortifying.’
‘It’s just procedure,’ I say. ‘We have to keep telling ourselves
that. I’m sure none of us has anything to hide.’
‘I’m sure Mum will call as soon as she has any more news,’
Ciara adds. ‘But maybe I’ll text her again to be sure.’
Kathleen nods as Ciara starts to tap a message to Marie on
her phone. There’s a moment’s silence that does nothing to
quiet my growing paranoia.
‘I think I’d like to stay here tonight,’ Kathleen says, breaking
the silence. ‘In case there’s any word. I mean, it’s getting on
a bit and I don’t want to be anywhere else if he comes
home.’
‘I’d say they probably won’t release his remains until the
morning now,’ Alex says.
Kathleen and Ciara both glare at him as if the thought has
only just struck them for the first time.
‘I’m just saying, we’ve had no word at all. It’s almost eight
now and if they did release him, sure it would the best part of
two hours down the road from Belfast. The roads are icing up,
too. Might be better for everyone if we just settled ourselves
to the notion it will be the morning.’
‘Well, we’ll be staying here anyway,’ Ciara pipes up. ‘And if
Kathleen wants to stay then she should stay.’
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‘But where will she sleep?’ I ask. ‘We’ll be in my old room.
You and Stella are in the spare room.’
‘Sure, there’s Joe’s room,’ Kathleen says.
I look around waiting for someone else to say that there’s
something a little weird about that. His room, where he died.
Where all his belongings still are. His bed, which he died in.
No one speaks. ‘Is that not a little . . .’ I start.
‘It’s not a little anything,’ Ciara snaps before turning to
Kathleen. ‘I’ll get you some fresh linen and towels. I can ask
Stella to pick up some of your things from Pauline on her way
back here.’
‘That would be brilliant. I can call Pauline and let her know
she’ll call in. It will really mean a lot to me to be here,’ Kathleen says, blinking back tears.
I look at her and think of the vibrant young woman she
used to be.
‘Of course it will,’ Ciara says, rubbing her hand. ‘This was
your brother’s home.’
There’s no doubt this dig is entirely in my direction.
I bite my tongue again
. Now is not the time to say I want
space. I can’t in good conscience force them to leave, or tell
them they should all go until we have news from Belfast. And
I certainly can’t make a solid case for Kathleen not sleeping in
Joe’s room, other than the thought of it makes my skin crawl
more than a little. If she’s happy enough to do so, if it doesn’t
make her feel uncomfortable, who am I to argue?
Kathleen stands up, wipes away her tears on the sleeves of
her cardigan. ‘I think I’ll go and get the room ready. Maybe
even have a sleep.’
‘I’ll help you make up the bed,’ Ciara says, getting to her
feet.
I’m about to ask Alex if he finds it all as strange as I do,
when the doorbell rings.
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‘I’ll get it,’ he says and leaves me holding the baby and feeling an impending sense of doom.
I hear an unfamiliar voice, solemn, formal. Alex says, ‘I think
you’d better come in.’ He calls to Ciara and Kathleen, and me,
that DI Bradley is at the door with two of his colleagues and
he would like to speak to us.
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Chapter Thirty-Two
Heidi
Now
We expected a phone call. We expected the funeral directors.
We didn’t expect DI Bradley to show up at the door. I’m not
naive enough to think that a senior police officer calls out to
a home at night without good reason or simply to pass on
‘good’ news.
DI Bradley follows Alex into the living room, asks if it’s okay
to sit down. I follow them in. The woman in the room is DC
Eve King who came out earlier. I don’t recognise the third
colleague but watch as he awkwardly sits down on one the
dining chairs we have moved into the room. He’s at least six
foot four and looks as if he is made of right angles. His legs
too long, gangly. I stare at his feet, which seem inordinately big.
DI Bradley introduces the big-footed man as DC Mark Black,
who in turn takes out a notebook and pen, his large hands
dwarfing the pencil in them. None of us speak, and we are
joined by Kathleen and Ciara.
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‘Is Ms Brown here?’ DI Bradley asks.
‘Stella’s running a few errands. She’ll be in about an hour or
so,’ Ciara says.
‘Okay,’ DI Bradley nods as if he is giving himself time to
think.
I wish he’d just spit it out. I can’t breathe with fear.
‘I’m afraid I have some distressing news for you, and in light
of this we will need to speak to each of you on an individual
basis. We can speak to you all here, or if you would prefer, we
can talk at the station.’
I see Ciara glance to Kathleen. There is panic on her face.
Ciara never usually shows anything but cold coolness in her
expression. That she is rattled makes me feel worse. I press my
fingernails into the palm of my hand, hope the sharpness will
stop me from spiralling into a panic.
‘What is it, Officer?’ Kathleen asks, her voice thin and reedy.
She is twisting her hands together, pulling the skin tight against her bones.
‘We have the preliminary results from the postmortem exam-
ination that took place this afternoon on Mr Joe McKee. These
are, as I stated, preliminary results and we are awaiting further
findings,’ he cleared his throat and continued. ‘It would appear
from examination there is evidence to support the hypothesis
that Mr McKee’s death may not have been natural or indeed
accidental.’
Kathleen blinks. ‘What? Sorry? I don’t . . . Can you speak in
plain English?’
‘What do you mean, not natural or accidental?’ Ciara asks,
cutting across her aunt.
I just sit and try to take in how this has all shifted again.
How Joe has become the victim for once.
‘There are early indications that Mr McKee, your father, died
as a result of asphyxiation, most likely suffocation. There are
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further injuries on his body, which the pathologist believes are of a non-accidental nature.’
Ciara’s mouth hangs open. Her eyes are fixed uncomfortably
on me before she staggers to her feet and gasps that she needs
air.
DC Black is quick to stand too, indicates to Kathleen that
she should remain seated as he guides Ciara by the arm out
into the hall, where the cold night air is whistling through the
still open front door.
I hear muttering. Kathleen is blessing herself and whispering
what I think are the prayers of the rosary. It’s hard to tell through the buzzing in my ears. Lily starts to fuss and Alex tries his
hand at settling her, but I can see he is thrown, too.
‘What indications?’ I ask. ‘He looked very peaceful when
Alex found him.’
And he had. When Alex had called us up, Joe had been lying
in his bed as if he was merely asleep. One hand was under the
covers and the other arm curled across his chest. He was flat
on his back, his mouth just slightly open as if he were about
to snore. His head turned just a fraction to the left. The bed
was tidy. The room was tidy. I can still see it now.
‘The pathologist will provide more information in due course,’
DI Bradley said. ‘Suffice to say, the pathologist is a very expe-
rienced professional. I believe there may be some unexplained
bruising, to the torso and one of his hands. Some internal
markings also.’
‘But couldn’t whatever marks you found just be down to the
surgery, or bruising afterwards, or him bumping into something
or falling or any number of things?’ I note there is a more than
a hint of hysteria in my voice and yet I seem powerless to quell
it.
I think of how Ciara stared at me. Does she think I did it?
Did she think I was capable of killing someone? Maybe I need
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some air, too. Am I allowed to leave the room? Will DI Bradley have to escort me?
‘As I’ve said, the state pathologist is a very experienced
professional. We expect that further results will corroborate his
hypothesis.’
Big words with a big impact. I see Kathleen look up from
her prayers. Her brow furrows. She looks at me and I wonder,
is she thinking I’m responsible? Has Ciara been whispering in
her ear? Am I being judged for the messed-up teenager I was?
‘We fully appreciate this must be a terrible shock,’ DI Bradley
says.
It’s seems such a bizarre thing to say. So completely under-
stated.
‘A terrible shock? You’re telling us one of us might be a killer
and the best you can say is tha
t “this must be a terrible shock”.’
I feel Alex’s arm on mine, steadying me. He is trying to
ground me. I shake it off. I don’t want to be grounded. I’m
scared. I’m scared that someone in this room might be a murderer
and I’m terrified that most of the people in this room seem to
think that the murderer is me.
‘What happens now?’ Alex asks. ‘Are we all under arrest?
How does this work?’
Under arrest? No. That can’t be . . .
DI Bradley shakes his head. ‘No. We are still gathering evidence,
which is why we need to speak to you all. There isn’t sufficient
evidence to arrest anyone at this time. You may, if you wish,
have a solicitor present while we talk, but I want to make it
clear that we are examining all possibilities and no one person
is under direct suspicion at this time. What we do need to do
is have forensics come in and look around the house, in particular Mr McKee’s bedroom, where we believe he died. Can I ask,
has anyone been in that room since this morning?’
‘We’ve all been in it,’ Kathleen says. ‘The girls tidied and
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stripped the bed. I’ve just put new bed sheets on. I was going to sleep there. Alex, you were in too, weren’t you?’
He nods. ‘I think so, earlier. Yes, I brought some laundry up,
put it in his chest of drawers.’
‘Okay,’ DI Bradley says with a slight shake of his head. ‘We’ll
still need SOCO to come in and look around, although the
scene has been compromised. The bed linen? Has that been
washed yet?’
Ciara comes back into the room, her face sheet white, and
answers, ‘Yes. Washed and dried. It’s still in the drier, though.’
DI Bradley sucks in air through his teeth. ‘That’s unfortunate.
We’ll take it anyway, just in case. Detective Constable Black
will be staying here with you until SOCO arrive. We’ll appoint
a family liaison officer. It might be less distressing for you all if you have somewhere else you can go while the team examine
the house.’
‘I’ll be staying here, thank you,’ Ciara says. ‘I don’t want you
rifling through my father’s belongings without a family member
present.’
Kathleen has stopped praying and finally speaks. ‘This has to
be a mistake,’ she says. ‘I don’t care how experienced your
pathologist is, he or she is wrong. No one murdered my brother!